The Treaty
by Elfpen
Summary: Takes place several years after the events of "Legends". Alphonse has settled into Xing and has grown increasingly comfortable in his position there. So, naturally, Ling decides to toss him off on a new adventure with little to no prior consultation, all in the name of progress. Alphonse, being Alphonse, grabs it by the horns.


When the Emperor of Xing invites you to discuss foreign policy over breakfast, you do not arrive late.

Therefore, when Alphonse was finally let into the palace grounds and made it to the grand hall, out of breath and already five minutes behind schedule, he was surprised when the eunuch posted at the front door swooped across the floor to intercept him.

"His majesty is not yet receiving visitors this morning, Master Elric," the man told him.

"W-what?" Alphonse frowned, trying desperately to appear casual while he heaved for breath, face sweating and scarlet. _I ran up all of those stairs. All of them. For nothing._ "But I- they said… I had an appointment," he said between gasps.

"I understand, Master," the eunuch bowed politely. "My deepest apologies. His majesty has been held up by some unexpected business. I will ask you to wait here, and I will let you know as soon as-"

"Would you leave me alone? Get off of me," it was Ling's voice that Alphonse heard floating in from within the inner chamber. The Sage craned his neck, trying to look around the corner. The eunuch only sighed.

"Forgive me, your Majesty," said another voice. Alphonse had trouble placing it, but from the annoyance in Ling's voice he was willing to bet it was Tong Jin, the oldest eunuch in the palace who'd been a close confidant of Ling's late father; he had trouble charming the current ruler. "But your majesty, it is not proper for anyone from outside the inner court to see your-"

"My what?" Ling demanded. "My hair? It's _hair."_

Alphonse stepped around the eunuch at the door, who tried in vain to stop him. The blond turned the corner to find Ling Yao sitting at his elevated desk, angry and bickering with a longsuffering, grey-haired eunuch.

The Emperor's hair was done up in the clean, slicked-back bun typical of Xingese men, secured on top of his head by his golden crown. The front of his hair, however, was messy and frazzled, as if it'd been re-combed on top of his hairdo multiple times.

"Am I the emperor or am I not? I can wear my hair," Ling reached up and yanked at the frizzed hair, releasing his long, spiky bangs and throwing his crown off-kilter. "However I want."

Unable to resist his internalized, quasi-maternal urges, Tong Jin flinched a hand toward the emperor's hair. "Don't you try it," Ling snapped.

"Your majesty," the eunuch fell to the ground.

Ling glanced up and caught sight of Alphonse.

"And what about Master Elric, eh?" Ling demanded, gesturing to the unwitting alchemist. "You're not going around hounding him for _his_ haircut. Are you going to cut off his bangs? Make him grow out his hair and wear it slicked back and boring? Shave it altogether?"

Alphonse wished he'd stayed outside. Hands at his sides, he fought the need to grasp protectively at his short-cropped hair.

"No, your majesty, forgive me, please," said Tong Jin. Ling deflated, tired of arguing.

"Oh, go away. And bring Master Elric some tea," Ling waved his hand, and the eunuch crawled away. He looked around at the stacks of reports adorning his desk and sighed. Eventually, he looked up at Alphonse.

"I didn't call you in. What poor eunuch have you scandalized this time?"

"Well it wasn't Eunach Tong, that was all you," the alchemist said impertinently, shuffling forward casually to hide how his legs ached from running from his guesthouse. "You're too hard on him."

"He nags worse than my mother."

Alphonse chuckled and settled into a seat to the right side of Ling's dias. "It's been a while since I've seen you with bangs, they suit you."

"Well you and I make two who think so," Ling complained, moping in his seat. "Tong Jin is old fashioned. Just like the rest of this country. It's ridiculous."

"He means well."

Ling scoffed, and carefully held his sleeve as he scribbled out a missive to one stubborn minister among dozens. "Maybe he does, but you can't say that about all of these people. Mark my words, Jin will have you growing your hair out, next. Won't you, Jin?"

Tong Jin ducked low and chuckled uncertainly as he offered Alphonse a tray of tea. The Amestrian accepted it with far more grace than his station required and waited until the eunuch had retreated from the room before saying:

"I suppose he'll ask me to grow a beard and fully transform into my father while I'm at it," Alphonse sipped at his tea.

Ling paused in what he was doing, not looking up. He resumed writing. "As I said. Old fashioned."

Alphonse continued to drink tea while Ling scowled his way through one report, two, five. He finished seven reports before he finally threw down the paper and crossed his arms.

"I don't care what minister Jiao says, I'm reopening the railway."

Out of the many, many dockets Alphonse been expecting to hear about that morning, this was not among them. He set his cup down to avoid spilling his tea.

"Really?"

"I said I was going to years ago, it's about time we got around to it. Minister Jiao is a leftover from father's days, isolationist to a fault. He and his cronies are the reason Xing still doesn't have a reliable telephone system. Fortunately," Ling said, opening one report and lining it up against another, "Minister Liu has just died,"

"Fortunately," Alphonse repeated at a deadpan, a habit he'd picked up to remind Ling of his humanity when he got a bit too wrapped up in his games of chess. The Emperor hesitated, but continued:

"Which means I can replace him with Chen Jie, who I know has a vested interest in this railway _and_ all the business it will bring. Now," the emperor stood, bracing his arms on either side of the desk while he scanned the reports like a map of conquest. "I just need you to figure out who you're taking with you."

Alphonse took two leisurely sips of his tea before he realized that Ling was talking to him, and not to his paperwork. "What, who, me?" he said. Ling looked up at him.

"Who did you think I meant?"

"Well, I," Al couldn't read the names on the report from where he was sitting. He shook his head. "That's not… where are you expecting me to take people?"

"The ruins of Xerxes."

Alphonse stared. "Xerxes. For the railroad," he said.

"Yes. Your ancestors built there for a reason; that spot is a natural oasis. Once we dig out the underground springs, it'll make a perfect halfway stop on the railway. First, though, I'd like to know what's still out there. Ruins, artifacts, the like. I'd also like to know what's left of that transmutation circle, so we can make damn sure it's all gone."

"That's… incredibly ambitious," Alphonse said, a colossal understatement. "But Minister Chen will only give you majority support by a half a hair, how exactly do you plan on funding that kind of excavation?"

Ling grasped the edge of a report, larger and more finely bound than the rest, and yanked it from the bottom of a pile, which sent half a dozen smaller reports tumbling. "Come here," he said, "and have a look at this."

Alphonse hesitated, glancing around to see if there was anyone who would scoff, protest, or threaten death should he ascend toward the throne.

"No one is here, Al, and Lan Fan won't tell. Will you, Lan Fan?"

"No, my lord," the bodyguard's disembodied voice floated in from nowhere, and Al started. He'd learned not to ask where, how, or when with Lan Fan.

"Come look at this," Ling repeated. "It came in from Amestris two days ago."

Overcome by curiosity, Alphonse set his tea aside and rose, still glancing around even as he joined Ling on his dias. He took the report from the emperor, and actually had to blink a few times to make his eyes adjust to the clean Amestrian script on the page.

"A treaty," the alchemist read, surprised. "And a partnership. With Ishval, too?" He couldn't mask his surprise. "How have I not heard of this?"

"Because you're not in charge of a country," Ling retorted. "But now," he tapped the report in Al's hands. "You're going to be in charge of this."

The paper drooped in Alphonse's hands. He stared. "In charge?"

"You're the only person all of us could agree on," Ling shrugged his gilded shoulders. "You're my Sage, an Amestrian hero, the Ishvalans trust you, your father was Xerxian, and to top it all off, you're completely unoccupied."

Alphonse, who worked hard every day to learn more Xingese as well as alkahestry, began to take offense.

"Unoccupied with anything important, anyway," Ling amended, which didn't really make it better. Al shook his head and looked again at the report, which included a small map of the Great Desert and the dotted line of a hypothetical railway that arched out of Xing to the west, crossing through Xerxes before turning south toward Amestris, where it hit the stations at Youswell, Ishval, as well as a final stop in-

"It's going to go all the way to Resembool?" Alphonse asked, shocked.

Ling smiled. "You're welcome."

"Colonel Mustang!" Alphonse had read down to the signatures. "Or Major General, I should say. No one told me he got promoted."

"This whole thing was his idea," Ling explained. "If I understand things correctly, the only reason your Fuhrer signed it is because he paid a personal visit to Central." Ling sighed, almost wistfully. "You know, things will be a lot simpler once he takes power."

Al didn't bother berating him for his flippancy. He was staring at the signatures. Fuhrer Grumman, General Mustang, even Scar had signed his support. General Armstrong's signature was notably absent, but considering it had been Mustang's idea, he wasn't surprised. The signatures of half a dozen other Amestrian military officers and Ishvalan leaders followed down the line. Near the bottom, there was an outlier.

"This is brother's signature," Alphonse exclaimed, eyes going wide. "It's gotten even sloppier than the last time I saw it." He frowned at Ling. "Why did he sign this?"

Ling wasn't looking at him, too busy with his desktop gallery of letters, missives, and reports. "The best Mustang and I can figure, if anyone still alive has any claim to the land of Xerxes, it's you two." Alphonse looked over at the emperor, but Ling was busy tidying his desk. "Edward has already said we can start digging. So what do you say?"

Alphonse crossed his arms around the treaty and peered critically at his friend. "If I say no, what are you going to do?"

Ling was unfazed. "Build the railroad on whatever half of Xerxes I decide belongs to your brother."

Al scoffed. "The convenient half, I suppose."

"Of course. But I'd much rather you say yes so we can find whatever's left of the city before we begin laying rail on top of it."

"And you want me to do the digging."

"Yes."

"Because I'm the only person idiotic enough to agree."

"Because you're the only person idiotic enough to get caught up in the affairs of three different countries - four, if you count Xerxes itself." Ling's eyes cracked open. "So?"

It wasn't often that Alphonse made actual eye contact with Ling, but now he held his gaze, unblinking. "Is Mustang sending men to help?"

"Yes."

" _His_ men?"

"Yes."

"What about Ed? Did you invite him?"

"Invite, yes, but his automail won't be good in the desert. He'll be stuck in Amestris."

"And what about the Ishvalans? Scar?"

"They've already begun laying their end of the railroad."

"Zampano and Darius?"

"I can only assume they'll follow you there, they follow you everywhere."

"How long will we be out there?"

"How long do you think it'll take to dig up a lost city, find its underground freshwater springs, and build a railroad on top of it?"

Alphonse squinted at him for several seconds.

"I'm taking Mei with me," he said.

Ling scoffed and leaned back. "Elric, you have to _ask_ before you go abducting my sisters away from me, how do you know I'll agree? How do you know that _she'll_ agree?"

"I know Mei will agree, and I also know that she'll kick your ass if you don't."

"She'll go with you," Ling announced, with retrofitted authority, "but if you don't take care of her, I'll kick _your_ ass, and if I'm in a good mood, you might get off with minor beheading."

"Deal."

"Good," Ling picked up the curated pile of reports he'd just finished stacking to a precarious height, and dumped them on top of the treaty that Alphonse still held. "I hope your penmanship isn't as bad as it used to be. You have a lot of new friends waiting on your response."

Stunned but invigored with new purpose, Alphonse rearranged the paperwork in his arms to carry it down the dias back to his seat. He paused halfway down the stairs.

"And what about Minister Jiao? The others?"

"I'll take care of him," Ling waved a dismissive hand, intentions revealed by the dangerous bur in his voice. "You don't have time to worry about it. This treaty is effective starting next week, and as soon as I announce it to the court, there's going to be Jiaos popping out of the woodwork in three countries writing in three languages, in three alphabets, all looking to strike it down. You have to work quickly."

Ling snapped his fingers, and a eunuch appeared carrying a small desk, upon which were balanced two ink pads, a brush, and jade stamp emblazoned with the seal of the Imperial Sage. Alphonse sat beside his stack of reports and turned the small signet over in his hands.

"How long ago did you have this made?"

"That one's actually three hundred and fifty years old, or so I'm told," Ling said. "Your dad used it to sign off on a few pretty old fashioned things." Alphonse looked up at Ling in surprised, and the emperor smiled. "You know, I'm not really sure he and I would've get along, had we known each other better."

Alphonse rolled up his sleeves so he wouldn't get ink on them, and opened the treaty. "Just promise you won't ever make me grow out my hair."

"Get this railroad built in time for my twenty-eighth birthday, and I'll make your haircut the most popular fashion in Xing. Do that _and_ get my country a functional telephone system, and I'll get the haircut myself."

"Now that," Alphonse said, pointing his brush at Ling's bangs, "I'd like to see."

"Well then, my friend," Ling smiled, "you'd better get to work."


End file.
